


Archivist Nap Hour

by mharris



Series: JonMartin Angry Toddler Nap Hour [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Comfort, Comfort No Hurt, Fluff, M/M, Nap fic, bullying your boss into taking a nap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-23 20:51:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21087647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mharris/pseuds/mharris
Summary: Jon's having A Day, Martin insists he take a nap.Incredibly self indulgent fluff.





	Archivist Nap Hour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JijiLikesGhosts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JijiLikesGhosts/gifts).

> I changed the title! Sorry for confusing anyone. The previous title is now the series title so fear not, it still exists.
> 
> Let us all enjoy a brief moment of softness amongst the non-stop train to hell this show is taking us on. When is this set? Who knows, it's honestly not important. Early season 4? It takes place in my heart, that's where it's set.

Jon was worrying. He had a _ list _ of things he was worrying about. It contained everything from the rain to his lunch (which was late on delivery) to the pile of folders Daisy had found behind a table in the staff room. Jon had the ability to worry about things not just out of his control, but out of other people’s control, and if pressed, out of control in fiction and things already past as well. As Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London, he felt it was in his job duties to worry about these sorts of things. Somebody had to, and Jon didn’t get this position just because he was the only person in the city with an MLS and willingness to endure the paranormal. He was very good at worrying and then being cranky about things he worried about. 

He was currently multitasking those two fine facets of his personality when Martin showed up at his office with a stack of papers. Jon worried even more for a moment, already up to his elbows in the folders Daisy had brought him. Martin looked him, and his desk over a moment.

“Uh, where’d you want these transcriptions?” Martin asked. 

Jon let out a breath, deflating the worry that had already built up.

“In the bin, frankly.” Jon said, and opened a new folder. 

“Uh huh, so I’m going to put them on top of the filing cabinet you keep the transcriptions in, instead.”

“Do whatever,” Jon said.

Jon noticed Martin hesitating at the doorway, and he sighed.

“Have any of our statements mentioned time travel?”

Martin tilted his head to the side, remembering. “Not in a way that would be considered such, I don’t think so.”

“Shame, I’d like to find a way to go back in time and shoot Gertrude myself.”

“Jon!” 

Martin laughed abruptly, and Jon looked up from his papers in time to see Martin’s smile. His shoulders dropped perceptively. 

“You seem wound extra tight today,” Martin said. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Does it come with whiskey?”

“Afraid not. Though I suppose I could step out to grab some, if you’re really in the mood.”

“No, because then you’ll bring in all the wet and the damp. I’ve already had to commandeer the extra office upstairs to lay out all the statements from June 2014 to January 2015 because they got _ damp _ somehow.” Jon paused for a moment. “Though that might have been because they were next to a Leitner, I don’t know.”

“So no tea, no whiskey, how about break instead?” Martin said. 

“I just took my lunch.”

“Did you?” 

Martin’s words dripped with sarcasm, and Jon looked up at him warily. Martin gave him a look in return.

“You complained about how late your pad thai was the entire way from upstairs back to your office. We all heard you. That wasn’t that long ago. Did you actually eat it?”

Jon frowned, “It- it was cold.”

“We have a microwave you know.”

Jon huffed. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

“You should take a nap then, instead of your lunch.” Martin gave a pointed look at the couch in Jon’s office that long ago had started serving as a bed. A sheet still lay tangled across the end of it.

“Ah no,” Jon started. “I can just-- when I’m done with these.”

“They’ll be there, right where you left them, when you wake up.” Martin said.

Martin deposited the pile of transcripts on top of a filing cabinet as he walked through the room. He stopped behind Jon, sitting at his desk. 

“To bed with you,” Martin said, prodding Jon’s shoulders. 

“I am not a toddler,” Jon said indignantly. 

“Of course not,” Martin said. “You’re a grown man who should know better.”

Martin poked him again and Jon sighed as he stood.

“Twenty minutes, then you wake me, alright?” Jon asked, voice firm.

“Of course.”

“I mean it, Martin.”

“Oh me too, yeah, definitely.”

“That gives me little faith, Martin.”

Martin laughed and pushed Jon the rest of the way to the couch. It was a scratchy green one that Jon refused to properly make up to look like a real bed, because to do that would be to admit something he wasn’t keen on giving up on just yet. But he had his own pillow, and he had a few blankets, and he had a no shoes policy so he sat down and began to take them off. 

Martin, seemingly satisfied, nodded once, and went back to the filing cabinet he had left the papers on top of. He took them off, and flipped through them, and then opened a drawer. Jon watched him as he took off his glasses and perched them precariously on the arm of the couch.

“I want them by year, then _month_, then alphabetically by statement giver,” Jon said.

“I know how to file things,” Martin said, not unkindly. “I know how you like it.”

Jon let out a huff of air. “Just trying to make a filing system that actually makes sense. Not a single person in the history of this archive actually has experience in cataloguing before me—“

“And Eric Delano doesn’t count,” Martin said, finishing Jon’s sentence. “I know, Jon. Lay down, you’re supposed to be sleeping.” 

Jon lay there watching Martin for a full minute before sitting up and reaching for his glasses.

“What now, Jon?” Martin asked, putting the pile of papers back on top of the filing cabinet.

“I left a stack of forms with Rosie,” Jon said, reaching for his shoes next. “I want to get them before she goes home.”

“She doesn’t leave until five, Jon.” Martin said.

Jon grumbled, and then was startled as Martin sat down next to him.

“Take them off.”

“Ah- er, wha- I’m sorry?”

“The glasses, Jon.” Martin said. “Take them off, and lay back down.”

Martin maintained eye contact, and held out his hand for Jon’s glasses. Jon frowned, and put the glasses in Martin’s hand. 

“Now, lay down.”

“Listen,” Jon said.

Martin put a hand on Jon’s shoulder, and gently pushed him until Jon collapsed backward onto the couch.

Jon lay there a moment, and crossed his arms over his chest. Martin carefully cleaned Jon’s glasses on his soft undershirt, and folded them closed. He leaned across and placed them on the edge of Jon’s desk, away from Jon’s grasp, without moving from where he sat.

“Are you going to go back to filing?” Jon asked.

“When you’re asleep.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Jon muttered.

“Sure you don’t,” Martin said. “What are you thinking about right now?”

“That Basira _ doesn’t _ know how to file things, and I don’t know about Daisy. I should have a staff wide training.”

“Uh huh, stop that,” Martin said. 

“What?”

“Stop thinking,” Martin said.

“How do you— Martin,” Jon said. “I _ can’t _.”

“Learn. Meditation is good for you, I hear.”

Jon sighed, and pressed his head back into the pillow.

“Are you just going to sit there?” Jon asked.

“Yes,” Martin said. “Until you’re asleep.”

“This is ridiculous,” Jon said, and tried to sit up.

Martin’s hand was there to catch him instantly, and Jon immediately fell back into the pillows. Jon let out an indignant noise, and tried to sit up again. Martin sighed, and laid down on top of him.

Jon lay there a moment, mind blank. It was surprising how easy it was, to not think, when you have someone laying on top of you suddenly. Jon was thinking about not thinking, and then he was thinking about Martin’s arm across him, and his own mouth pressing into it, and how he was kind of a little uncomfortable, but not that uncomfortable, and—

“Shoes off, please,” Jon muffled into Martin’s arm.

Martin wiggled a bit, and Jon heard twin thumps of Martin’s shoes hitting the floor. Then he rearranged himself underneath Martin’s bulk. And it really was quite comforting, now that he thought about it, the couch and the pillows and the warmth of the room. And Martin too. Holding him down. 

Martin turned his head and whispered, “I can hear you thinking. Go to sleep, Jon.”

“Yes Martin,” Jon said, eyeroll obvious in his words. 

But Jon turned his face in toward Martin’s shoulder. He smelled, well, like Martin. It wasn’t unpleasant, it was _ human _ , and _ that _ was comforting too. Jon nestled down, like Martin was a weighted blanket, trying to get that comforting weight over as much of him as possible. Mindlessly, Jon sighed, his breath ghosting out and about around Martin’s neck. And like fluorescent lights flicking off one by one across a store at the end of the day, Jon did fall asleep, in jolts and starts, until every muscle was at last relaxed.

Martin lay there, feeling the tension break down in Jon’s body. Martin thought about the papers on top of the filing cabinet. He thought about the forms Rosie had, and the way that no food delivery service had ever been able to reliably find this place, and the improbability of ceiling leaks in a basement. But then Martin thought about Jon, and the nightmares and the daydreams, and the couch and the pillows and the warmth of the room. Then Martin was unwinding as well, muscle by muscle. But Martin knew everything would be waiting for them, right where they left it, so he let himself fall asleep too.

**Author's Note:**

> There's a sequel now! More napping shenanigans. Please enjoy, thank you. Be good to yourselves, take a nap.


End file.
